


You're The One That I Want

by Layneee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Friends With Benefits, Greaser Castiel, Jock Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Musician Castiel (Supernatural), Prom, Teacher Dean Winchester, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 19:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20345140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layneee/pseuds/Layneee
Summary: “So, what do you think?” Dean asked once he explained the situation.“Dean Winchester,” Cas said with a grin. “Are you asking me to prom?”It was the flirtiest thing that had said to one another since Dean stopped putting out and it made him choke on his sip of mimosa.





	You're The One That I Want

**Author's Note:**

> I was driving to work today and heard this song. And it's like the story just blossomed in my head and I just had to get it written down. 
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> And please listen to the song when it comes up.

They met at the Roadhouse. 

Dean Winchester was behind the bar, mixing margaritas and pouring beer. It wasn’t his normal gig, but Ellen needed the help and he wouldn’t say no to the tips. It was a busy night but that was pretty common on the nights they had live music. But even he would admit that this band, God’s Folly, seemed to attract a bigger crowd than most. He looked towards the stage. The bad hadn’t even shown themselves yet and already there was a crowd of hot twenty-somethings pushing to get as close as they could. 

_ Huh, _ Dean had thought, _they must be good_.

Then Ash, the Roadhouse’s resident pool-table-sleeper-slash-tech-guru, dimmed the lights and the ladies started to scream. 

The band was small, just a man and two women. One of them went to sit behind the drums while the other already had a shiny electric bass hanging from her shoulders. The man swaggered front and center. He picked up a guitar and smiled out at the crowd. 

Dean had changed his thinking. _Nope, not good. He’s fucking hot._

The guy didn’t say anything, he just waited for the drummer to start the beat and then he started to play. 

_ Okay,_ _hot _and_ good, _Dean finally decided on. 

Their music was unlike anything Dean had heard before. They were gritty and dark but had elements of folk and storytelling. 

Dean was so hypnotized he practically ignored the line of customers waiting to be served. Eventually, Ellen showed up and verbally kicked his ass into gear. (He suspected she would have physically kicked his ass into gear too, but she was on the other side of the bar.) 

They finished their set around eleven-thirty, then they played an encore. Then another. Then another few songs. 

By the time they were leaving the stage, it was nearly midnight. 

The crowd had started to thin out. Which gave Dean a perfect view as the guy walked purposefully towards the bar. He took a seat directly in front of Dean. 

He had tattoos. One on his neck that looked like angel wings, and more colorful, abstract ones covering his arms. The t-shirt he had been wearing was threadbare and nearly translucent with sweat, so Dean was able to see the shadows of more covering his chest. 

Dean took them all in, but his eyes kept returning to the one on his neck. 

He forced his gaze up and took in the sharpness of his jaw. It was covered in just the right amount of scruff. His hair was wild and unkempt and he had a piercing at the arch of his left eyebrow. Dean gulped when he saw the hungry look in his blue eyes and the smirk on his mouth. 

“I’ll have a shot of whiskey, please,” the guy husked. “Neat.”

Dean thought about the gravely nature of his voice, wondered if it was just from singing for a couple of hours or if it was always like that. 

He grabbed a bottle of Johnny Walker, poured it into a shot glass, and slid it into the other guy's waiting fingers. 

“You’re not going to join me?” He asked. 

“Can’t,” Dean croaked. He realized his throat was bone dry, so he gulped and licked his lips. The guy watched, rapt. “I’m - uh. I’m on the clock.” 

“Hmm.” He picked up his shot and threw it back effortlessly. “Pity. I’m Castiel.” He reached a hand across the bar and Dean grasped it. 

“Dean,” he replied. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Dean,” Castiel said. He fiddled with the lip of his empty shot glass absentmindedly. “So tell me, what time do handsome bartenders normally get off around here?” 

Dean could barely hold in his groan. “God. Soon, hopefully.”

“Good,” Castiel said with a wink. “I can wait.”

* * *

To say the sex had been good would be the worst understatement of Dean’s thirty-year-old life. 

It was fucking epic. 

Castiel wasn’t afraid to take control, and Dean happily gave it to him. 

They hadn’t even gotten out of Dean’s car before Castiel had their pants undone. He got Dean off first, then used his come to finish himself off. An amuse-bouche, he’d called it. 

They didn’t succumb to exhaustion until the sun was rising. And when they did Castiel was spooned up behind Dean, come and sweat barely dried on their skin. 

In the morning they shared a steamy shower. Dean’s knees were throbbing by the end of it. 

Dean, clad in only a towel, fixed a pot of coffee while Castiel got dressed. 

“We should do this again sometime,” Dean said as poured the coffee into a travel mug and held it out. 

Castiel took it and handed over his cellphone. Dean put in his contact info then called his phone to grab the number. 

“I’ll call you,” Castiel purred. He crossed the kitchen to give Dean a parting, filthy kiss before walking out of the apartment.

* * *

The thing was this. 

Dean didn’t _ do _ relationships. He’d had one in his early twenties and it didn’t just flame out. It imploded and left his ego (and his heart) more than a little wounded. 

Ever since then he’d sworn off the whole institution. He primarily picked up people at the Roadhouse, though he’d had some success with the app thing as well. Sometimes he did dates, but he didn’t put too much stock in them and made sure they didn’t feel blindsided when he didn’t call back. 

So this thing with Castiel was great. 

It started as a booty call situation. Sometimes Castiel would call after a gig and Dean would drive over so they could fuck in his car. Sometimes Dean would call after too many hours working and, if Castiel couldn’t get to his house, he would talk Dean into an orgasm so intense he sometimes blacked out a little.

Eventually, conversations started happening. 

Dean learned that Castiel considered the band his number one job, but that sometimes he would help out at his sister’s flower shop to make a little extra money. He told Dean about the meanings behind his tattoos, and his hopes for more to come. He even shared some stories about past relationships; not all of them good. 

In turn, Dean told Castiel about his _ real _ job as a high school English teacher. How he had loved books because it was something he and his dad used to talk about before he died. He told stories about Sammy, the little brother who was almost graduated from Stanford Law School and Dean’s pride and joy. 

Somewhere along the line Castiel became Cas and their relationship evolved into friends with benefits. 

* * *

The first time Dean thought of Cas as his boyfriend was at the Roadhouse. 

It was at another music night, only this time Cas wasn’t performing. Meg, his bassist, was. She was filling in for another band when their bass player came down with food poisoning. Cas had said it was his duty as Meg’s friend to support her. 

Dean hadn’t been working, so he and Cas were able to grab a table and enjoy their beers while they listened to the band. They were fine, but nowhere near as good as God’s Folly. 

Midway through the show, they started getting a little drunk and a lot handsy under the table. Dean was halfway to hard when a young blonde approached their table. She was pretty, but barely twenty-one. Over the sound of the music, she gushed to Cas that she was a big fan, and offered to buy him a drink to show her appreciation. By the way she was eyeing him, Dean suspected she wanted to do more than buy him a drink. 

But Cas had a thing about being polite to fans. So he leaned over to tell Dean he would be right back and walked with the girl towards the bar. 

Dean watched as she grabbed Ellen’s attention. The girl held up two fingers and Ellen poured two whiskeys. She tapped her glass against Cas’ before taking her shot. Once their glasses were empty she placed a hand on his elbow and leaned in, no doubt coming onto him. 

Dean’s instincts were telling him to bolt over there and get her away from _ his _ boyfriend. 

Then he realized what he was thinking and he felt like an idiot. 

Clearly, he needed to take a step back, if his brain was starting to throw out the B-word. 

Dean was so freaked out he didn’t even realize Cas was back at their table. He nearly jumped when he felt Cas’ hand on his knee. The chair made a horrible screeching sound as Dean moved away. 

“Uh,” he stumbled, “She looked like she was interested in you, man.”

Cas shrugged. “She was. She suggested we go somewhere a little more quiet to talk about my music.” 

“Sounds like a good time.” Dean could feel his throat close up, but forced himself to add, “You should take her up on it.”

Castiel gave him the weirdest look. It shifted to incredulous, to sad, before landing on something that Dean could only call _ blank_. He nodded but didn’t say another word before he stood up and made his way towards a group of women in a booth not too far away. 

With something like jealousy in his gut, Dean watched as Cas spoke to the blonde girl and held out his hand. She looked ecstatic as Castiel led her out of the bar.

* * *

When Cas called next Dean sent it to voicemail. 

He just needed some distance. 

But it only took a couple of days for Dean to really miss the guy. Because yeah, they fucked around, but they were also friends. Dean may go so far as to say Cas was his _ best _ friend. 

So slowly, he started reaching out again. They spend a day watching football and eating nachos. Dean went to another one of Cas’ shows across town. He even went out afterward with the whole band. Meg looked at him like he was gum on her shoe but Hannah, the drummer, was friendly if a bit quiet. 

And in the evenings when normally they would fall into bed, Dean just said goodnight and drove home alone. 

Part of him wondered if what he needed was to sleep with someone else. But whenever he tried, he found his heart just wasn’t in it. 

Cas never talked about going out with anyone else either, and Dean didn’t ask.

* * *

Dean was in his office grading some quizzes when there was a firm knock at the door. 

He looked up to see Principal Tran. She looked as polished as ever in her grey pantsuit, but there some something about her that gave away her panic. 

“Hey, Linda,” Dean greeted. “You okay?”

“Mostly,” Linda replied with a laugh. She stepped into Dean’s office and closed the door behind her. Dean gestured to the chairs across his desk and she took a seat. “You have a friend who’s a musician, right?”

Dean was taken aback. How did the principal of his school know that? “Uh, yeah. How did you -?”

Linda waved her hand. “Oh, you talk about him all the time.” 

_ He did? _

“As it turns out the band we booked to play the prom has to back out. Family emergency,” Linda said. “I was wondering if you could ask your friend if his band is available? You would really be saving my life.” 

“Sure. I can ask,” Dean found himself saying. 

Who knew? Maybe it could be fun. If Dean was stuck chaperoning it was only fair that his best friend was stuck there too.

* * *

One thing that Dean would never tell Sammy was how much he loved Sunday brunch. 

It was something about breakfast food and cocktails. 

He and Cas somehow started going pretty much every week and it was at one such morning that Dean brought up the prom. 

“So, what do you think?” Dean asked once he explained the situation. 

“Dean Winchester,” Cas said with a grin. “Are you asking me to prom?”

It was the flirtiest thing that had said to one another since Dean stopped putting out and it made him choke on his sip of mimosa. 

“N-no!” He stuttered. “We’re just in a bit of a pickle.”

Cas just laughed and waved his hand. “Dean, I’m just kidding. I’ll have to talk to the girls but I’m sure we can make it work. I’d hate for those kids to have to dance without music. Or worst -” he shuddered, “with a DJ.”

* * *

The next day Dean got a simple message from Cas. 

From: Cas  
We’re in. What’s the theme?

Dean sagged with relief before typing his reply. 

To: Cas  
It’s a sock hop 

Cas just sent back a thumbs-up emoji.

* * *

_“Ugh. Seriously?”_

_ “Seriously.” _

_ “Why this one?” _

_ “They do ride off into the sunset after it.” _

_ “And that’s what you wanna do? Really?” _

_ “Absolutely.” _

* * *

The ballroom the school rented was decked out. There was a snack table and a couple of punch bowls. Dean spotted Victor, the gym teacher, watching over it very seriously. Apparently, it was his job to make sure it didn’t get spiked. The prom committee was setting up streamers and blowing up balloons. In one corner there was a place set up to take photos. It had cutouts for a diner, a jukebox, large guitars, and a 50’s style car. 

Dean looked down at his outfit and hoped he fit in well enough. He had styled his hair a little bit more and threw on his old letterman jacket. He even had a pair of dark sunglasses but he didn’t want to put them on because only douchebags wore glasses inside. 

The stage was set up against the far wall. Cas hadn’t shown up yet but the AV Club was hard at work getting everything set up for them. 

Dean wanted to wait around until Cas arrived but he knew he had to be more helpful than that. 

He got dragged into helping with the streamers, since he was the tallest, until just before the doors opened. Then he helped the committee at the door check tickets and coats. Not everyone took the theme to heart. Most of the kids ended up wearing traditional prom dresses and tuxedos, but some were wearing poodle skirts and leather jackets. One of the football players wore his own letterman and gave Dean a high five when he saw him wearing one. 

The music started to play when he was still at the ticket table. Apparently, Cas got here okay. They sounded good. The kids were in for a treat, that was for sure. 

Once the majority of kids had shown up Dean figured he was good to wander back to the ballroom. 

He was not prepared for what he saw. 

The band had gone all out for their costumes. Meg was wearing black leather pants and a baby pink leather jacket. Dean couldn’t see Hannah’s dress, but her hair was up in that curly up-do he’d seen in movies. 

But it was Cas who really stole the show. 

He was dressed like a greaser in a skin-tight white t-shirt that did nothing to hide his neck tatt. It was tucked into dark jeans, with a leather jacket. His normally crazy hair was gelled up but he had one curl that fell over his forehead, crybaby style.

Cas spotted him in the crowd and gave him a nod and a wink. 

As much as Dean would have loved to stand there and listen to him play all night, he knew he had duties to attend to. 

God’s Folly was a comforting background as he wandered around the dance floor. They played a nice mix of modern covers, fifties classics, and a few of their tamer original songs. The kids seemed to love it if the crowd around the stage was anything to go by. 

The dance was starting to wind down when Cas cleared his throat at the microphone. It was unusual. He almost never talked to the audience. 

“Well, Lawrence prom! I hope you’re all having a great time,” he said. “I wanted to play this song for a special someone. You know who you are.”

The band quieted down and Cas started to [ sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRg_9fI_R9A). 

_ I’ve got chills, they’re multiplying._  
_And I’m losing control cause the power you’re supplying,__  
_ _ It’s electrifying._

Dean’s mouth went completely dry. Cas was a great singer but _ wow_. He’d _ never _ heard Cas sing this way. 

There was a pause before the band started up. 

_I’ve got chills, they’re multiplying._  
_And I’m losing control cause the power you’re supplying,__  
_ _ It’s electrifying._

Cas was playing lazily and was so close to the mic he was practically kissing it. (It was probably too intense for a high school prom, but Dean was not going to complain.)

_You better shape up cause I need a man and my heart is set on you_  
_You better shape up, you better understand, to my heart I must be true__  
_ _ Nothing left, nothing left for me to do_

Dean felt caught in Cas’ gaze as he sang. At one point he stopped playing the guitar, letting it hang from his shoulder, while his hands moved up to cradle the mic. 

_You're the one that I want, oh oh oh, honey_  
_You are the one I want, oh oh oh, honey_  
_ You are the one I want, oh, the one I need, oh, yes indeed_

Dean realized what was happening. This was Cas asking for more. “Holy shit,” Dean breathed out.

_If you're filled with affection but too shy to convey__  
_ _Better take my direction_

Holy shit. He was in love with Cas. And somehow Cas knew before he did. And he was asking Dean to take a chance; to trust in him and try to make it work between them.

_ I better shape up cause you need a man who can keep you satisfied_   
_ I better shape up if I'm gonna prove_   
_ That your faith is justified_   
_ Are you sure? Yes I'm sure down deep inside_

As they went through the chorus again, Dean realized how many eyes were looking at him. It’s not like he and Cas were being subtle in their staring, and now it seemed like everyone knew he was the ‘special someone’ Cas dedicated the song to. 

Dean found his feet carrying him to the stage. Cas just kept watching him. Students parted like the red sea. 

When the song was over Dean climbed onto the stage and stood in front of Cas. 

“Did you like my song?” Castiel asked quietly. 

Dean nodded. 

“And?” Cas pressed on. 

“I’m pissed I can’t kiss you at a school function,” Dean replied. 

Cas grinned and it crinkled the lines around his eyes. “You owe me one?”

“I owe you more than just one,” Dean said.

* * *

The rest of the dance felt like it zoomed by. Students kept staring at him like he was some star-crossed lover and he guessed he kind of was. Even Linda came up to him to offer congratulations. 

“I knew there was more than what you were sharing,” she had said. 

Cas and the band had finished their set half an hour earlier and had left to load up their cars. He knew Cas was coming back, but that didn’t mean Dean liked not having him within sight. He was worried that if Cas left for too long it would all end up being a dream. 

Dean was overseeing the last of the cleanup when he felt the presence of someone behind him. 

He turned and came face to face with Cas. 

He didn’t even hesitate before pulling him in by the lapel of his jacket and pressing their mouths together. 

The kiss was heated but soft and so, so welcoming. Dean hadn’t even realized that such a huge part of himself was missing until that moment. God, Cas was it for him, wasn’t he?

When they broke apart the men took a moment to just look. 

“I love you,” Cas said simply. Very matter of fact. Very _ Cas_. 

“God, I love you, too,” Dean replied. He felt like his insides were turning to soup, but in a good way. 

“I didn’t sleep with that girl,” Cas confessed. “I told her that I had feelings for you but that you didn’t reciprocate.”

“That was the first night I thought about you as mine and it freaked me out,” Dean told him. “I reciprocated then, I just didn’t know what to do about it.”

They kissed again. 

“I’m gonna be bad at this,” Dean said. He said it quietly like he was afraid it would make Cas turn tail and run. 

“I don’t care,” Cas responded. “You’re the one that I want, baby. We’ll make it work.”

* * *

And they did.

**Author's Note:**

> :) Let me know what you think!


End file.
